Welcome to Hyperion Records, an independent British classical label devoted to presenting high-quality recordings of music of all styles and from all periods from the twelfth century to the twenty-first.

Hyperion offers both CDs, and downloads in a number of formats. The site is also available in several languages.

Please use the dropdown buttons to set your preferred options, or use the checkbox to accept the defaults.

Recordings

Mark Padmore is widely acknowledged as one of the greatest tenors working today. He is admired—among other things—for his ‘extraordinary diction and whispering chamber-like intimacy … [his] joy in conveying the emotional core of each situation’ (Gra ...» More

Details

If my complaints could passions move, Or make Love see wherein I suffer wrong, My passions were enough to prove That my despairs had governed me too long. O Love, I live and die in thee; Thy grief in my deep sighs still speaks; Thy wounds do freshly bleed in me; My heart for thy unkindness breaks. Yet thou dost hope when I despair, And when I hope thou mak’st me hope in vain. Thou say’st thou canst my harms repair, Yet for redress thou let’st me still complain.

Can Love be rich, and yet I want? Is Love my judge, and yet am I condemned? Thou plenty hast, yet me dost scant; Thou made a god, and yet thy power contemned. That I do live it is thy power; That I desire, it is thy worth. If Love doth make men’s lives too sour, Let me not love nor live henceforth. Die shall my hopes, but not my faith, That you, that of my fall may hearers be, May hear Despair, which truly saith, I was more true to Love than Love to me.

If my complaints could passions move, Or make Love see wherein I suffer wrong, My passions were enough to prove That my despairs had governed me too long. O Love, I live and die in thee; Thy grief in my deep sighs still speaks; Thy wounds do freshly bleed in me; My heart for thy unkindness breaks. Yet thou dost hope when I despair, And when I hope thou mak’st me hope in vain. Thou say’st thou canst my harms repair, Yet for redress thou let’st me still complain.

Can Love be rich, and yet I want? Is Love my judge, and yet am I condemned? Thou plenty hast, yet me dost scant; Thou made a god, and yet thy power contemned. That I do live it is thy power; That I desire, it is thy worth. If Love doth make men’s lives too sour, Let me not love nor live henceforth. Die shall my hopes, but not my faith, That you, that of my fall may hearers be, May hear Despair, which truly saith, I was more true to Love than Love to me.